Chapter 16 #3
There was the scrape of an additional chair, the movement of servants, the rustle of Poppy’s skirts, Aurora’s sudden flood of explanation to the baby, who could not possibly understand and yet seemed to receive the attention as her due.
The room filled not simply with sound but with motion that confused Hector.
Shapes shifted at the edge of his vision.
Poppy’s slender figure crossed and recrossed; Aurora leaned toward the baby, who turned toward Poppy’s voice, and the servants withdrew with the tact of people abandoning a battlefield.
Hector could see movement more than detail, and there was too much of it.
The world blurred into gestures. Pale cloth, dark hair, the flash of Poppy’s hand, and the bobbing shape of the infant.
He had lived so long in stillness that this lively disorder struck him almost physically.
And yet it was not unpleasant.
“Hector?” Poppy’s whisper pulled him back to reality.
She came close to him, close enough that he knew her before she spoke.
She had a scent he had begun to recognize against his will, something that was unmistakably hers.
It reached him beneath the food, the polished wood, and the faint smoke of candles.
His body noticed before his mind gave permission.
“She will not eat,” Poppy murmured.
Hector turned his head toward her. “Princess?”
“Yes.” She nodded firmly.
“She was brought here because Aurora feared she was being neglected. Now she refuses sustenance in protest?” he said dryly.
“I do not believe it is political,” she responded just as dryly.
“With that name, one must be cautious.” Hector shrugged.
Poppy’s laughter burst through her while chaos reigned behind her.
He sighed as he watched the children. “How do we fix this?”
She tapped her chin, looking unsure for a moment.
“There is a trick.”
Hector leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Of course there is.”
“It requires some…noise.”
Her delicate hands waved around her, and the movement was distractingly adorable as she spoke. She completely captured him.
“Perhaps you did not notice that we have that already.” He motioned to his nieces.
“Well, it is not just any kind of noise…it involves singing.” Her eyes dropped, and he could see the blush rising in her cheeks.
“And what else does it involve?”
“Dancing,” she said softly.
Hector closed his eyes briefly, though it made no practical difference. He held back the smile that threatened to spread across his face. “This ought to be…interesting.”
“It is the most effective method.” She looked at him expectantly. “Are you all right with that?”
It was an absurd question. Nothing about him suggested readiness for musical theatrics over supper.
His household had once operated with the hushed precision of a clock.
Now his wife was asking permission to turn the dining room into a nursery performance hall so that an infant called Princess might be persuaded to open her mouth.
He should have said no.
He heard Aurora’s uneven breathing. Heard the baby make a small, impatient sound. Heard Poppy waiting beside him, not presuming, not pleading, simply trusting him with the choice.
“All right,” he said with a grunt.
Poppy did not thank him in words. She beamed at him and moved away.
Hector felt the loss of her presence immediately.
He watched the figure walk gracefully to Aurora; she leaned in and whispered into the child’s ear.
Aurora squealed and clapped her hands as they both maneuvered in front of the baby, and the performance began.
“Handy spandy Jack-a-dandy loves plum cake and sugar candy.” They began to sing the nursery rhyme while dancing.
Even with his limited sight, Hector could tell it was the most unladylike dance he had ever witnessed.
Poppy especially looked absurd in the most attractive way.
She and Aurora moved where Princess could see them, and Poppy sang the nonsensical lyrics that had likely never troubled a respectable music room.
Aurora joined timidly at first, then with growing confidence.
There were claps. Steps. A turn that nearly ended in a stumble and produced a burst of laughter from Poppy so genuine that Hector felt it in his ribs.
Princess stared at them and giggled in that infectious way babies do.
The sound was round and startled and triumphant, as though delight had surprised her as much as anyone.
Aurora laughed too, her earlier tears forgotten while Poppy’s voice rose, warm and ridiculous, urging the child’s amusement higher.
“Hector,” Poppy called, breathless. “Now.”
He looked toward the table. “Now what?”
“Feed her now,” she said breathlessly as she continued to dance ridiculously for the baby.
Hector had never fed a baby before. He got up slowly and sauntered toward Princess, who seemed to try to join in the dance.
A spoon was promptly placed in his hand.
The utensil was small, ordinary, and suddenly grave.
Hector adjusted his grip. Feeding an infant while his wife and niece sang like cheerful lunatics felt far more perilous than any of his duties.
He leaned toward Princess and the baby moved.
“Hold still,” he muttered.
“She is a baby,” Poppy sang between verses. “They are not famous for obedience.”
“I am discovering that.” Princess’s hand shot up and almost hit the spoon out of his hand.
He held onto it tightly and gathered a careful portion of food onto it.
His sight gave him only the approximate shape of her, and the small movement of mouth and hands.
He had to rely on sound, on instinct, on the angle of the chair and the rhythm of her laughter.
His first attempt brushed her cheek, and Princess squealed.
Aurora clapped as if this were part of the entertainment, as Hector set his jaw in determination. He was not a man who retreated because of one badly aimed spoon.
“Again,” he whispered the command.
This time he waited until Princess’s laughter opened her mouth, then guided the spoon forward with slow precision until it reached its mark.
Princess happily accepted it, and Hector froze in his triumph.